


Who's Gonna Drive You Home Tonight?

by mvernet



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Blair whump, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas Story, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, In memory of Ric Ocasec of The Cars, Jim Angst, M/M, Murder Mystery, Prompt: Recalcitrant, Young Blair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: It's 1984 and fifteen year old Blair Jacob Sandburg is headed for Cascade, Washington and his freshman year at Rainier University. The adventures of his first week in Cascade have long term repercussions that touch the lives of Blair, Jim and Simon.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks & Blair Sandburg
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31
Collections: 2019 'The Sentinel Secret Santa' - Gift Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stoneygirl77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoneygirl77/gifts).



Cascade, Washington, August, 1984

Blair Jacob Sandburg was a week away from his sixteenth birthday. But his mind wasn’t focused on parties, presents or his first kiss on a dare from some clueless girl. Blair was riding the Greyhound alone, on his way to Rainier University to begin his freshman year as the youngest Anthropology student ever admitted to the esteemed institution.

His flighty mom, Naomi, had said goodbye at the bustling LA bus terminal and sent him on his journey alone, accompanied only with her positive thoughts and a few sprigs of white sage tucked into his pocket. She was already on her way to a tantric meditation retreat somewhere in Malibu, were she would be incommunicado for several months, processing her emotions regarding her newly empty nest. Not that her nest with her son ever defined her life in the past. Blair had been without her a great part of his childhood. He was indeed well trained in being a wild, exotic bird that had no roost to come home to. Blair never even thought to ask for the address or phone number of where she would find herself.

Blair watched the world go by from his bus seat. The earbuds from his personal CD player were firmly in place as he quietly rocked out to his current favorite band, The Cars. His teenage obsession with the group was apparent in his appearance. His long curly hair was tamed by globs of mousse, pushed back and flattened at the sides with a high poof on top that usually fell over kohl-accented eyes. Blair hid his makeup covered lids with dark plastic sunglasses, enjoying the effect when he whipped them off and stunned people with his dramatic blue orbs outlined in black. An earring with a pyramid charm dangled from one ear.

Blair’s youthful shoulders were broadened by his cotton sports coat boasting shoulder pads wide enough to land a small Cessna on. He wore his seafoam green jacket over a simple white t-shirt and constantly pushed up the sleeves. The jacket went well with his pinstripe jeans and squeaky new, black, Converse sneakers.

As Blair admired the green hills, lush, rain-washed ferns and stately pines of lower Washington, he mouthed the words to his favorite Cars song. It seemed oddly appropriate to a boy heading out on his own. Although he could only wish someone cared enough for him to worry about how he got home at night.

Who's gonna tell you when  
It's too late?  
Who's gonna tell you things  
Aren't so great?

You can't go on thinking  
Nothing's wrong, oh oh  
Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

The Greyhound arrived at its stop more or less on time and Blair gathered his belongings, hoisting his new backpack over his shoulder. The backpack came with a pocket for his precious laptop and another outside pocket for his CD player that allowed him to continue listening to his tunes as he walked. Blair had one more possession, an electric guitar signed by Jimmy Hendrix and given to him by his mom. The guitar case never left his side and he was getting pretty good at playing, when he could find an amp and plug in. He was hoping he could find a used one at a pawn shop and keep it in his dorm room.

That he had no information about where he was staying made him a bit anxious. All he had was a letter asking him to check in with Doctor Eli Stoddard at Hargrove Hall. Blair had looked up the famous anthropologist and he had been awed by his achievements. Meeting the man in person made him even more nervous. But Stoddard had said in the letter that he was very impressed by Blair’s entrance essay on the explorer, Richard Burton, and how Blair expressed a wish to continue his work in the modern world.

Blair exited the bus and wandered over to where the porter was unloading the luggage from the undercarriage. They had changed buses in Seattle and Blair began to panic as his suitcase on wheels failed to materialize. He took off his sunglasses and unplugged his ears.

“Hey, man,” Blair called to the grey uniformed porter who was locking up the luggage door. “I don’t have my suitcase.”

The porter looked Blair over and smirked. “You come from LA? You change busses at Seattle?”

“Yeah, man. It was a madhouse. I almost missed the transfer to Cascade.”

“Did you watch them put your luggage in the hold?”

“No, man. I was like, in dire need of coffee. Had to get me some of Seattle’s best, ya know?”

“Well then, son. There is your answer. Your bag is on its way back to LA, most likely.”

“What? Oh, no way. I only had one fucking suitcase. How could that happen? It’s not like you need a doctorate to move bags from one bus to another!”

“Watch that language, boy. Just go to the courtesy counter and tell them your sad story. They’ll have the suitcase re-routed to Cascade… eventually.” 

The porter walked away shaking his head and muttering about how rude kids were these days.

Blair turned red in the face with frustration. Cursing under his breath, he hurried over to the customer service area. A weary woman in company grey listened to his plight, pulled out a form and asked for his driver’s license. Since Blair was fifteen and not a driver, she settled for his passport to confirm his identification. He leaned his guitar case against the counter and braced it with his knee so it wouldn’t fall as he dug in his backpack for the leather journal he kept his important papers in. When he finally found it, he handed the passport over to the woman who checked it and handed it back. Blair tossed the identification back into his backpack then set the pack on the floor so he could continue filling out the baggage claim form.

“Thank you, Tina,” Blair said politely reading her name tag and smiling.

TIna finally smiled back.

“You’re welcome. Take this card and call us in two to three days. I’m sorry this happened. I can authorize a fifty percent discount on your next trip. Let me just add that to the computer.”

Blair reached down for his backpack but it was gone. He searched the sea of customers and workers walking to and fro in the busy terminel and didn’t see anyone with his bag. He began to panic again when it was nowhere to be seen. 

“Tina, my backpack is gone! My wallet. My passport. Oh, no! My laptop and books! My glasses! My Cars CD!”

“I’m so sorry, sir. We do have a big problem with pickpockets and such,” Tina stated in a calm, professional manner. “I’ll call security.”

Blair backed up, clutching his guitar.

“No! No police. I… I’ll just call… ummm… Doctor Stoddard over at Rainier. He… he’s my… uhhh. Yeah, I came for a visit. He’ll pick me up. I’m good. No police. Bye, Thanks.”

Blair hurried away and ran out into the street. He found a bench at a local bus stop and sat to calm himself down. Naomi had instilled in Blair her great fear of the police. Maybe it was because of her use of questionable medicinals, maybe it was because authority figures frowned on her avant garde lifestyle. Maybe her fear stemmed from the time a stern looking man in a dark suit threatened to report her to child protective services as if she had broken some silly motherhood rule. But whatever reason, while other children were told to seek out a friendly officer when in trouble, Blair was taught never to trust the fuzz. 

Blair had learned early on to depend only on himself and his wits. He had turned obfuscating his way out of trouble into an art form. Now he reached in his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and some coins totaling fifty seven cents. It was all he had left, but it might get him to Stoddard’s office if he took a bus. 

He went back inside the terminal and found a local bus schedule with the number of the bus he needed to get to campus, then went back to the bus stop to wait. 

It was twenty minutes before his bus arrived, so Blair used that time to try and center himself. The university knew he was coming and had copies of his birth certificate, his grants and scholarships. Eli Stoddard was a hero to him and would surely come to his aid, Blair reasoned. He would pay him back with hard work and devotion.

Blair used his dollar for bus fare and arrived at Rainier campus just fifteen minutes after boarding. He exited the bus and smiled up at the old ivy covered halls. The campus was sprawling with green lawns and pleasant tree lined walkways between buildings. He stopped to look at a stone building with a magnificent clock tower that chimed the hour. He remembered that Stoddard had an office in Hargrove Hall. Blair walked by a stately fountain and stopped momentarily to throw in his last two pennies, wishing that wishes could really come true.

Blair wandered the halls of the Anthropology building, taking in the displays and posters for all sorts of clubs and activities. He began to notice that the campus seemed to be empty of students. He finally ran into a custodian who held up a hand.

“Whoa there, son. What are you up to?”

Blair put down his guitar case, glad to have a friendly face to answer his questions.

“My name is Blair Sandburg. I’m looking for Doctor Stoddard’s office. I’m supposed to check in with him and get my housing information.”

The custodian chuckled a little. “You are in the right place, his office is two doors down on the right. But Doctor Stoddard won’t be back in the states until Thursday. Him and the misses are still at some dig in Peru, I think. Isn’t that the life? As a matter of fact, the whole campus is closed to students for two weeks in August for the yearly clean-up. Even the dining halls and coffee shops are closed. You are one week too early, son.”

Blair felt his heart drop to his feet. He could hardly breathe. The day caught up with him and he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying not to cry.

“Hey, there. It’s okay. You got someone you could call to pick you up? You look kinda young, your parents drop you off? Maybe they could turn around and come get you if you call now. You wanna use the phone in Stoddard’s office? I got the key.”

Blair pulled himself together. He wouldn’t lose it in front of this helpful man who probably chatted with Stoddard all the time.

“No, thank you, sir. My… my parents are still here. In Cascade. We are staying with relatives. My uncle… I wanted to introduce myself to the Doctor without anybody holding my hand, ya know? I must have gotten the dates wrong. Boy, Dad will be pissed. I’ll just give them a call. Thanks for your help. See you around.”

Blair grabbed his guitar case and found his way back to the main doors of Hargrove Hall. He ran down the steps onto the neatly trimmed lawn and halted at the fountain. He sat next to the burbling water and wondered what he could possibly have done in a past life to deserve such a sucky day.

Blair wandered around the campus greenways, imagining himself joking with friends, chatting about his studies and ogling girls... or boys. He was pretty sure his gender was fluid when it came to sex. As sure as a lonely, isolated virgin could be. He admitted to himself that he’d be happy just to find a friend he could be honest with. Until then he had his music, his quicksilver wit and his white lies to keep him company. Sometimes he even convinced himself that he had a loving traditional family and a father that doted on him.

The sun had set and the chill wind was creeping through his thin coat. A sort of misty rain hung in the air making Blair’s hair curl around his face. Annoyed, he tried to push it back in place but it was a lost cause. He was now in a run down part of town and passed an old-fashioned chrome and vinyl diner, that was sending an aroma of hot coffee and grilled onions wafting out across the damp sidewalk. Blair reached in his pocket and came up with fifty-five cents. He sighed and entered the brightly lit beacon of American cuisine.

A bored waitress was reading a textbook on business management. This close to Rainier, Blair deduced she must have been a student working part time. Blair also noticed she was a long legged blonde hottie, way out of his league. Her name tag said ‘Rhonda.’

“Hi, uh, Rhonda. I… was wondering if you minded if I waited here for my… dad to pick me up. I’m a freshman at Rainier and my dorm isn’t ready yet. Some stupid miscommunication.”

Rhonda closed his book and looked Blair up and down. “Freshman, huh? Music major? They’re looking younger every year. I don’t care, but my boss would insist you buy something. How about a never ending cup o’ coffee?”

Blair hung his head, hoping he looked appealing. He glanced up at Rhonda through his long lashes and noticed a smile beginning to form. He went in for the kill.

“To be honest, Rhonda, I only have fifty cents on me. Maybe I could afford a teabag?” He shamelessly opened his black rimmed, blue eyes wide and blinked like a wet kitten.

Rhonda’s sigh indicated she was a sucker for strays, just as Blair had hoped. “Don’t sweat it, sugarplum. Just come back when you are settled in and bring your friends. Rich friends who tip well, if you can manage it. You hungry?”

Blair bounced in place. “Starved.” 

“Seat yourself. I’ll bring you a coffee and the special of the day. You can guess what it is after you eat it.”

Blair slipped himself and his guitar case into a booth that looked out into the empty, cold and wet streets of Cascade. As promised Rhonda brought him steaming hot coffee and a noodle casserole that had chicken and veggies mixed in with a hearty gravy. Rhonda came by again without a word and added a basket of rolls, a small salad and a piece of apple pie to the fare.

Blair finally relaxed as he tasted the simple but satisfying meal. His mother wasn’t much of a cook, but she did have a few homey dishes she fixed just for Blair. Blair wondered if she missed him, but quickly repressed that thought and began to sing to himself as he buttered another roll.

Who's gonna pick you up  
When you fall  
Who's gonna hang it up  
When you call  
Who's gonna pay attention  
To your dreams  
Yeah, who's gonna plug their ears  
When you scream

You can't go on thinking  
Nothing's wrong, oh oh  
Who's gonna drive you home  
Tonight

As a couple entered, talking about the film they had just seen Blair looked up. Rhonda came to life and welcomed them in her professional waitress voice. She winked at Blair as she returned to get their drink order.

By the time the couple had their food, another customer came in. This one was a tall, slim, black man, in a stylish blue pinstripe suit, white shirt, a pink tie and loafers. He could have passed for Miami Vice’s Ricardo Tubbs, if not for the goatee. 

“Rhonda, my love. Let me take you away from all this.” The tall man widened his arms in greeting.

Rhonda placed her coffee pot free hand on her hip. 

“Well, if it isn’t the newly minted homicide detective, Simon Banks. I thought I’d seen the last of you when you got promoted. Did you mess up already? You walking a beat again?”

Simon chuckled and gave Rhonda a friendly pat on the arm as she passed on her way back behind the counter. Blair had stopped drinking his coffee as soon as he saw the cop enter the diner. The detective leaned on the counter.

“How’s Pops, sweetheart?” Simon’s demeanor changed to one of sincerity.

Rhonda put down the coffee pot and shrugged. 

“You know my dad. Being a cop was all he had. When he was shot, he knew it was career ending. But he has an appointment with the Police Commissioner. He wants to do some sort of community work even though he’s in a wheelchair. He’d like to work with runaways.”

“Pops was the best cop I ever had the pleasure of working with. If he needs anything you tell him to call me. And when I make Captain, I want you to be my personal secretary. You should have your degree by then.”

“Thanks, Simon. But they call it office manager these days. And if you ever make Captain, you’ll need me to keep you out of trouble.”

Simon being all cop, took a moment to check out the customers.

“Hey. Who’s the kid? He’s pretty young to be here by himself.”

“Yeah. He said he was a Rainier student, but he looks about thirteen. Poor kid was starving too. No money on him. You think he might be running away from home?”

“Maybe. He looks clean and healthy, just scrawny. Look at that hair. Must have handfuls of goo in it. And is he wearing makeup? Can’t have been on the streets for long.”

Blair noticed the big cop glancing his way. He had hoped to be able to stay until closing time, maybe walk Rhonda to her car like a gentleman. But he knew it was time to go. He stood and put the remaining rolls in his pocket and took one last sip of coffee. He waved towards the counter and called out, “My rides here. Thanks, Rhonda, for everything. You are the best. I’ll be back with those rich friends as soon as classes start. Maybe I’ll see you around campus. Bye, and thanks a lot.”

Blair was out the door faster than the lies could fall from his mouth. 

Rhonda and Simon looked after him. “There was no car,” Rhonda said sadly.

“Yeah. Did he tell you his name?”

“No.”

“Well, not much we can do. I just hope now that he has a full tummy, he’ll reconsider and call home.”

Rhonda nodded. “You want the usual, Simon?”

~~~~~~

Blair felt pretty good, considering. He was full and warm and had two rolls in his pocket for breakfast. He just needed to find a place to sleep. It wasn’t the first time he had slept on the street. As a child, he’d often slept in a car or go to sleep in one bed only to wake up in another. While Naomi usually kept them from sleeping outside, Blair had had a habit of running off if the adults were too high or his mom’s friends too friendly or too violent. Naomi knew his favorite places to sleep though, and usually found him the next day.

Blair liked to sleep in airports and bus stations. They were noisy, busy and well lit with lots of crannies for a small boy to hide. He would make up a story in case a well meaning mom-type asked if he was okay by watching the arrival boards. His imaginary dad was usually the hero, coming to get him and taking him home.

Blair found his way back to the Greyhound terminal and was happy to get out of the damp night. The arrival board showed a bus scheduled to be coming in from Portland, Oregon at midnight. He found a somewhat comfortable bench and curled up around his guitar as he formulated a tale of waiting for his father who somehow would not show up. That would buy him lots of time before he needed to find another place to sleep.

Blair slept fitfully until the midnight bus unloaded all its passengers. He hadn’t counted on the Cascade terminal being small enough to actually lock its doors after all the workers left. The night security guard was giving him the stink eye. He took the hint and slipped through last open gate and looked around for somewhere sheltered to sit and wait for morning.

“Hey, kid.”

Blair stopped and looked around. He saw the light of a glowing cigarette in a dark corner near the building.

“Listen, kid. I know the scam. You’ve got runaway written all over you. I got a heat grate over here with your name on it if you don’t mind sharing.”

Blair swallowed hard and tried to walk away. But the man just chuckled. 

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, little buddy. I know for a fact you can run faster than I can.” 

Blair was intrigued and stepped closer to the red glow of the cigarette. He could see in the diffused light from the building a man with long hair covered in a knit cap and wearing a shabby army field jacket sitting in a wheelchair. Even in the dark Blair could tell he was missing a leg.

“My name is Bernie Morse. Lost a leg in ‘Nam. Been in and out of V.A. hospitals since then. Sometimes I just need to hit the streets to get away from activity directors and needles. I won’t do you no harm, kid. But I might do you some good. In the morning you can wheel me over to the shelter and we can get some breakfast. Sound good?”

Blair nodded. He was suddenly bone tired and having someone to watch his back as he slept was appealing. 

“Yeah, man. Thanks. Ummm. I’ve got a dinner roll if you’re hungry,” Blair offered.

“And I have a thermos of coffee and some apples in my pack. Get those out and we’ll have a midnight snack. There are a couple of blankets stowed back there, too.”

Blair put down his guitar case and rummaged around in the pack hanging from the wheelchair. It was a large pack, the kind the army uses for field marches. Blair found the apples, thermos and blankets. He handed a blanket to Bernie who threw it over his lap. Blair handed him an apple and a roll. Then he sat on a piece of cardboard he found and placed over the warm grate. He leaned on his guitar and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He settled in with a sigh and poured the coffee into the cup they could share.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Blair hesitated. He had no reason to lie, but it had become a habit.

“Ric. Ric Ocasek.”

Blair gambled that the older man had never heard of the lead singer of The Cars. 

“Well, Ric. I don’t sleep very much, but I find the night air clears my mind. So finish up and get some rest. I’ll watch over you.”

Blair finished his apple and curled up on top of his guitar case, pulling his blanket tightly around him. He was asleep before he could even say thanks.

Blair spent the rest of the week under Bernie’s wing. The old man brought Blair into his world that was surprisingly well-organized for optimal street survival. In the morning he had breakfast at the shelter and in the late afternoon, early dinner and a few beers at the VFW hall. His army buddies let him have his independence, but Blair could tell they would do anything for him. A few addressed him by the respectful nickname, ‘Cap’. 

Blair found it odd that the other men never asked why he was with Bernie. They just kept him fed, and told him war stories and slipped him a beer now and then. Bernie didn’t discuss his time in Viet Nam beyond reminiscing about the wild beauty of the jungle and the beaches. “A delight to the senses,” he said.

In the evening, it was back to the streets. Bernie mentioned to Blair that he could stay at the shelter, but that he’d have to fill in an application so they could run a background check, criminal and otherwise. Bernie preferred not to be sent back to the VA nursing home until he was ready and Blair didn’t want to embarrass Dr. Stoddard by having him come to a group home or something worse to get Blair released. Blair had been dropped into the foster care system by the fuzz before and wanted no part of it. 

Blair finally trusted Bernie enough to tell him his plight. Bernie had only smiled and nodded, obviously relieved that his little buddy wasn’t a runaway after all. Bernie said he would give him a few bucks for bus fare so that he could get to Rainier on Thursday where he could camp out at Stoddard’s door. The world-weary vet warned Blair not to budge until everything was straightened out.

Blair promised to do that and to return once he was settled to treat Bernie to a good meal. But Bernie was ready to return to the hospital. He told Blair he could visit him there if he needed a break from his studies.

It was a warm clear night, so they decided to sleep in the park. They found a soft patch of lawn that would make a great picnic spot on a bright Saturday afternoon. This night it was dark and secluded and they had a distant view of the bay. Blair spread out their blankets and helped Bernie out of the wheelchair so he could stretch out on his back. 

“Ric. What are you majoring in at Rainier? What do you want to be?” Bernie asked as they looked up at the stars.

Blair rolled on his side to face Bernie.

“I want to be an Anthropologist. I love observing people. I love studying all the different cultures in the world. Seeing how we differ and how we are all the same. If this was the nineteenth century I would be an explorer and travel the world finding lost tribes. Anthropology will give me a chance to see and study many cultures. I hope to have a doctorate one day and maybe be able to write a book about my own research findings.”

Bernie chuckled. “Wow. I’ve been helping out a brainiac. I wanted to be a fireman. Or maybe a cop. Couldn’t even achieve that. I wish you well, Ric. Hey, you ever play that guitar?”

“Yeah. I can play, but it’s an electric. It needs an amp.”

“Would you play me a song anyway? I can imagine how it would sound amped up.”

Blair smiled, happy to oblige. He opened the case.

“I usually practice without an amp anyway, people don’t get as pissed off when I mess up.”

Blair tuned his guitar and started to play. The guitar chords were muted, but Blair’s voice was clear and strong.

Who’s gonna hold you down  
When you shake?  
Who’s gonna come around  
When you break?

You know you can’t go on  
Thinking nothing’s wrong  
Oh. Oh  
Who’s gonna drive you home tonight?

You know you can’t go on  
Thinking nothing’s wrong  
Who’s gonna drive you home tonight?

Blair glanced at Bernie to see his reaction, but he was already snoring softly. Blair was glad he had helped his friend fall asleep. He put his guitar away and rolled over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms. He closed his eyes and the tears began to fall. He’d made a friend, and he somehow knew that after tomorrow he’d never see him again. Like always.

~~~~~~~

Blair would never know what had awakened him. He sat up abruptly as he heard Bernie’s sharp intake of air, then shocked grunts. A man dressed in grey was standing over Bernie with a dripping knife in his bloody hand and a maniacal grin on his face. 

Bernie cried out with his last breath.“Run, kid. Run!”

Blair screamed, picked up his guitar case like a club and slammed the hard side into the killer’s head. The man fell to the ground, momentarily stunned, but still holding the knife. He staggered back to his feet and lunged at Blair, slicing his arm and the case. Blair hesitated only to glance at Bernie’s lifeless eyes pleading with him to save himself. Blair dropped the guitar and ran as fast as he could. He kept running until he heard sirens behind him. He stopped to catch his breath and looked down at his bloody arm and hand. He grabbed on to a tree when the world began to spin and took him crying, “Nooooooooo!” into a whirling pit of black and grey.

~~~~~~~

Detective Simon Banks strode into the cheery children’s wing of Cascade General where he’d been told the young murder witness was being cared for. The doctors had estimated his age to be between thirteen and fifteen and had installed him in a car-themed room with a matronly nurse to watch over him, hoping to minimize any anxiety he might have after his ordeal. 

Simon remembered the young man from the diner where Rhonda worked. He tried to ignore the guilt he felt that this vibrant child was found by following a trail of blood leading away from the detective’s current homicide crime scene. Simon entered Blair’s room carrying the boy’s blood-spattered guitar that had been found on the ground near the victim. He’d recognized its potential value not only to help identify the murderer but also as a way to ease the kid’s pain. Simon had therefore pushed for the forensics team to finish with it quickly. 

Blair’s prints were not in the system but one of the victim’s army buddies said the kid was hanging with Bernie Morse and was named Ric. Because of what the boy had told Rhonda, Simon contacted Rainier to obtain a list of matriculating freshman, but no Ric had turned up.

Blair began to moan and blink his eyes. He had lost a lot of blood from a nicked artery in his forearm and needed ten external stitches after the artery was repaired. The doctor had been concerned that he had no way to contact the boy’s parents or get a medical history. Since he was a victim of a crime and a witness to a brutal murder, Detective Banks took over as an unofficial guardian. Simon felt strangely protective of the kid. Being a new father himself, he prayed that his own son would never have to sleep on the streets for any reason.

Simon sighed and reached over to gently rearrange some errant curls that had fallen across Blair’s eyes. The nurse had washed his face and hair and the kid now had a vulnerable, angelic look that tore at Simon’s heart. He took Blair’s hand in his.

“Easy, son. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital and they are taking good care of you.”

Blair moved his head to see who was speaking to him.

“Hosp’tal? Where… who are you?”

Blair glanced around and everything looked fuzzy. 

“Wish I had my glasses,” Blair mumbled. He tried to move his arm and white hot pain ran up his shoulder and settled in the back of his head, making him groan.

“Take it slow, kid. I’m Detective Banks. Do you remember what happened?”

Blair’s eyes went wide and he blinked at Simon.

“Bernie. Bernie’s dead.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid he is. Can you tell me your name?”

“Ric. Ric Ocasec. You… you’re a cop?”

“Yes, Ric. I’m a homicide detective in charge of Bernie Morse’s case. Tell me what you remember. Here let me get you some water.”

Simon fussed with a glass and a straw and gave Blair a drink. Blair sipped it slowly. Watching the detective fidget impatiently.

“Bernie was a good man. He was a veteran. A hero. And my friend. But he was also a street person. He looked after me, but he had no one to look after him. You want to find out who murdered him? What did you do as a cop to protect and serve him before he died and his file ended up on your desk?”

Simon leaned back in surprise and put down the water glass. He didn’t expect such hatred of cops from one so young.

“Son, it’s a hard fact that people get killed no matter how safe we police try to make the streets. Maybe you can help put the man who killed your friend behind bars.”

“I’m not your son. Don’t act like you care about me. You’re never going to find Bernie’s killer. He just wasn’t important enough. You’ll ask some questions and do your duty and move on to someone more important.”

“Don’t judge me, young man.” Blair’s words hit home. He had already pissed off his Captain by spending too much time on what he called a tragic, but simple mugging. “Every victim deserves justice.”

“Yeah, well. I guess I don’t remember anything,” Blair lied. He would never forget the evil grin of the man with the knife.

“You don’t remember anything, huh. Well then tell me where your parents are and I’ll get them to come pick you up.”

“I’m an orphan. I live on the streets like in a fucking Dickens story. Leave me alone.”

Blair glared at Simon and set his mouth in a firm pout.

Simon shook his head in frustration. “Look kid. It’s a terrible thing you witnessed. I just want to help you. Make it easier for you.”

“I said, leave me alone! Get out. You don’t care. You don’t care about all the Bernies out there… getting butchered… fuck… just get out!”

Blair began to sob as his emotions spiraled out of control. He pulled out his IV and tried to stand. He crumbled as Simon grabbed him and eased him back down onto the bed. There was a flurry of activity at Blair’s door as his doctor and his nurse came in answer to the alarm.

“Detective Banks! This is the pediatric wing, not a prison infirmary! Leave at once. I’m going to have to sedate him. You’ll have to question him after you find his parents. I won’t have you upset him like this.”

Simon nodded. “Yes. I can see I’m not doing him any good. I’m sorry I upset him. Try to find out who he really is and where he’s from. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Having to walk away from his sobbing witness was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. A boy with no one to watch over him. Simon went back to the station and sat at his desk. He ran a weary hand over his face and re-read the list of freshmen Rainier had sent him. This time he paid close attention to the birth dates for the students. He found one boy who was born on September 1, 1969. His name was Blair Sandburg, and he would be sixteen the next day.

Simon looked up his adviser's number and gave Dr. Stoddard a call. The doctor was truly appalled and apologetic that his young student had been left to fend for himself. He assured Simon that Blair would be well taken care of. The doctor informed Simon that had been given temporary guardianship over Blair by his mother in order for the child genius to start his higher education. Stoddard and his wife had already decided to have Blair live with them for his freshman year. But Naomi had forgotten to tell Blair that she had signed him over to Stoddard's care.

Simon was satisfied that the recalcitrant little fireball who called himself Ric was finally in good hands. He meant to speak with Blair again in a few days when he was settled, but his Captain turned the case over to another rookie detective and Simon was forced to move on. 

~~~~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Cascade, Washington, December, 1997

Simon stood at his window sipping coffee and looking out at the grey skies hanging over Cascade, hinting at rain or even snow flurries in the future. He shivered, thinking of the case he had just been sent from homicide. Some maniac was stabbing homeless people. The body count was rising so the case was bumped up to Major Crimes, a sorry-ass present for under the MC Christmas tree.

Jim sat in his usual chair in front of Simon’s desk. He was skimming through the case file.

“Not much to go on, Captain. It’s tragic, but most of these victims are loners. There are no loved ones to question and witnesses tend to hide from the cops, afraid to get involved. Robbery is not a motive, nothing was touched. And it can’t be personal. These victims are too random and varied. Some psycho decides to take them out during the holiday season, may even be a sick form of mercy killing. Doing them a favor in his opinion.”

Simon turned towards Jim nodded his agreement as he headed for his coffee pot for a refill. 

“Something about this case is niggling at my brain and already giving me a headache.”

Simon lifted the coffee pot in invitation, but Jim waved a hand to politely refuse another cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain. 

“No thanks, Simon.”

Simon eyed his cup critically. “Probably tastes too much like mountain mud for your sensitive taste buds.”

Jim cracked a smile. “You sound like Sandburg. He’s always trying to make the coffee perfect for my senses. He doesn’t understand I was in the Army. You can give me coffee beans strained through an old boot and I won’t complain.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you are just a pussy cat at home. Never complain about Sandburg at all.”

“Hey! I never said that. I just never complain about his Sentinel safe cuisine. I appreciate what Sandburg does for me. Like last Christmas. You know I spent it working and wishing the crazy holidays are over. Well, we never said anything about gifts. But Christmas morning he made me a big festive breakfast and gave me a gift. A cologne made up special just for my sensitivities. It smelled like fresh snow. I really liked it. But I didn’t get him anything. He just laughed it off and said I could get him two gifts next year. It made my day. Not just because it was a thoughtful gift, but because it meant he was thinking of staying with me. At least another year.”

Simon looked thoughtfully at his best detective.

“Jim, did you ever tell Sandburg you were gay?”

Jim glared at his friend.

“Hell, no. I mean, I left those days behind. I learned in the Army the price you pay for being gay in this society. I have a lot of regrets. I told you about Andy Nolan. The brass found out we were lovers and shipped him out. He was KIA six months later. Maybe he’d still be alive if we hadn’t loved each other. I never should have married Carolyn either, that was a mistake. But she knew I was trying to change my lifestyle. I wanted to be a detective. Being a gay cop is not something I wanted.”

“Jim, I know I’ve said this a million times. But you can’t change who you are. Like I can’t change my skin color. What you have to do is change other people’s attitudes by being proud of what you are. Things have gotten better. Look at Sandburg. A smart ass hippie academic working with cops. He doesn’t know it but he’s paving the way for future outside consultants in the PD. I have noticed the way my people seek out his educated opinion when they are stuck.”

“I don’t think Sandburg is gay, Simon. Hell. I don’t even think he’s a womanizer like he wants the guys in the bullpen to believe. Sandburg blends in like a chameleon. He can be whatever you want him to be. I don’t want to come out to him and make him nervous to be himself around me. It’s hard enough getting to know the real deal. I like what we have together.”

“He adores you, Jim. Don’t you want to see where it may take you?”

Jim jerked his head up almost letting the file fall from his hands. He pulled it closer and straightened it absently.

“I don’t want to take that trip with Sandburg. He would be way too easy for me to fall in love with and that could endanger both our lives. He adores Sentinels, Simon. Not me. I’m his experiment. An observer's dream. Like I said, I like the friendship we have. I love him… as a friend. Now, back to this case. What do you think of this ‘Bernie the Elf.’ guy as our murderer. Sounds crazy enough.”

Simon sat down at his desk. He didn’t mean to interfere in Jim’s life, he knew he was the last person who should hand out relationship advice. But there was something about Sandburg that brought out all his protective, fatherly instincts. He felt like Blair was his work-son. He tried to hide how he felt about Blair, he didn’t know why he felt so strongly that he wanted the flighty kid to have a real home with Jim and to be happy.

“Bernie the Elf. No one’s been able to find out anything about him. Reverend Stiles who runs the men’s shelter has never seen him, but said he just shows up this time of year wearing an elf hat and a simple black mask and hands out presents to the homeless. He’s a local hero and some insist he’s an angel. He doesn’t just hand out blankets or food, he sits with them in the cold night and finds out what little thing they need to make their life better. The presents are personal and the guy has won the hearts of even the most recalcitrant of street people. No one is likely to point him out or turn him in. Stiles also said he talks the men into using the shelter or helps them get to the hospital, then disappears like the spirit of Christmas future.”

Jim put the file on Simon’s desk sat back and stretched out his long legs.

“Sounds to me like a guy who wants to pay something back. Maybe he was once on the street himself and got a hand up. I certainly hope he’s not our perp. I’d hate to arrest an angel in an elf’s hat at Christmas time. Like Sandburg would say, that has got to be bad karma.”

“Yeah,” Simon said wearily. “But we need to bring him in for questioning. If he is just one of Santa’s helpers, he might have heard or seen something that will help give us a solid lead. That’s our first step. You and Sandburg get on that. Where is the kid?”

“He’s swamped with finals at the moment. Has to get everything done before Christmas break. He’s been coming in after midnight every day this week. I’m a little worried about him. He smells exhausted.”

“Oh. Well, give me twenty minutes and I’ll go with you to the crime scenes even though they’ve been processed by homicide already. We can talk to Reverend Stiles. I have a real funny feeling about this case. Maybe some brisk winter air will cure my headache.”

~~~~~~

Jim was home at the loft, dozing on the couch in front of the TV. He had taken a shower when he came home. An afternoon on the streets talking to the homeless people of Cascade had left him noxious to his own nose. He blessed Sandburg as he used the Sentinel safe products lining the edge of the tub. And even splashed on a bit of the cologne Blair gave him last Christmas. The scent still made him think of fresh snow on a mountain and hope.

The highlights of the Jags game was long over and some overly excited actor was trying to sell him a blender that would somehow save the universe as we know it. He muted the TV and lazily watched the fire instead. It was way past midnight and Blair wasn’t home yet. Jim was purposefully staying up to catch him, scan him and make sure he wasn’t on the verge of a collapse. He also wanted to get his opinion on the homeless murder case and maybe get him to work with him the next day. It didn’t look too hopeful now.

Jim sat up when he heard the elevator button in the lobby activating the ancient motor. He followed the groans, creaks and disturbing whines of the contraption and breathed deep when the doors opened on three with a dull ding. He could finally smell Blair. Something was off.

Jim got up and went to the door, scenting the air on the way. He opened the door before Blair could turn the knob.

“Hey, Jim. You still up?” Blair greeted him, as he practically collided with Jim’s well-muscled chest.

JIm noted that Blair looked exhausted, his usual bounce and brightness reduced to slumped shoulders and a dull smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Wanted to run a case by you, Chief. I haven’t actually talked to you for days.”

Blair tossed his keys in the basket and nearly missed. Jim shook his head, then grabbed Blair’s book-laden backpack from his shoulders and placed it on the floor under the coat hooks. He helped him off with his jacket and hung it up for him, taking the opportunity to check Blair’s pulse and breathing. 

Blair smelled off to Jim. Tired and windblown, like he’d spent the day outside instead of hunched over a desk grading papers. There was a strong coffee smell, but no food and a trace of a scent he was all too familiar with that clung to Blair’s jacket. Blood.

“Chief! What the hell? I smell blood! Are you hurt?”

Jim began to run his hands over Blair’s head, checking for a head wound under all those curls.

“No, man. I’m okay. Uhhh, one of my students had a stress nosebleed. I got blood on my hands helping him. I thought I got it all off. That’s cool you could pick that up.”

Jim nodded. He hadn’t told Blair he could also smell the scent of a Sandburg obfuscation. Blair was a pro at keeping his heart beat steady and his pupils fixed when he lied. But he didn’t know about the sour lemon tang it gave to Blair’s usual honey sweet scent. Jim was keeping that Sentinel fun fact to himself.

Jim relaxed as he confirmed his Guide was unharmed. The faint copper scent was not his blood. He let his fingers linger in Blair’s silky hair. Then let his hands rest on either side of his slender neck. Jim’s thumb slowly stroked the sensuous skin under his ear and flicked his earrings gently a few times. Jim held the sensations close. Blair’s intoxicated scent hit him full force and he came out of his near zone when Blair touched Jim’s cheek. Blair’s voice was like a soft caress

“Jim. I swear. I’m fine. Don’t zone on me, man. I’m just exhausted. Been a long ass day. You wanna let me all the way in, Big Guy? The couch is calling my name and the beer is screaming for me to release it from the fridge. You must hear it.”

Jim smiled and patted Blair’s shoulders as he took the hint and moved away. In his brief panic over his Guide’s safety, Jim had come close to kissing his beautiful roommate and he needed distance.

“Sure. I can hear them. Take a load off, I’ll get you one this time, but don’t get used to it, Chief. I just feel sorry for them. You want a sandwich while I’m up?”

Blair sunk into the couch with a deep groan and kicked off his shoes and tucked his feet under him, ignoring the house rules. 

“No, thanks, Jim. I’m not hungry.”

Jim brought back a beer and sat next to Blair. When Blair was tired like this he drifted towards Jim’s side like a heat-seeking missile. Jim obliged by placing an arm around his shoulder and drawing Blair close. Jim felt Blair relax and settle in to watch the fire. They both listened to the hiss and crackle of flames for a few minutes as Blair drank from his beer bottle.

Jim broke the comforting silence.

“Chief, I’m worried about you. When is your last day of classes?”

“December twenty second. I know I’m stretched thin, but I can handle it.”

“Can you handle coming into the station tomorrow to work with me? I caught a new case bumped up from homicide. Simon was with me today to do the preliminary investigation, but I have a feeling you and I would have found a lead.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry. Shit. Did you need me today? Jim don’t do that. Don’t go into the field without me. What if something happened? Damn it Jim, I’m your partner, not Simon.”

“Whoa, there, partner. I was fine. Simon is good backup when you’re busy. I just don’t extend my senses as much as I do when you are next to me. Like I said, it was just to familiarize ourselves with the murder scenes. Some nutcase is stabbing homeless men in their sleep. Three victims so far. For some reason, Simon is really wanting to be hands on. Maybe because it’s Christmas. We have a suspect, but I think I need you with me to track him down. He calls himself, Bernie the Elf. He dresses in an elf hat and mask and hands out presents to the street people. I don’t like him for the murders, I have a gut feeling he’s an eccentric character but a good guy. We have to bring him in to make sure.”

Blair had grown still and silent as he listened to Jim. He wanted to tell Jim the truth about where he was going at night. About what had happened tonight. He wanted Jim to hold him and take his pain away. He wanted Jim go ballistic with worry, wanted Jim to care for him. He wanted Jim to go into Blessed Protector mode and drive him home every night. He wanted Jim to be his home. Blair swallowed the last of his beer along with his wants and longed for dreams of a stable home filled with steadfast love.

“I can meet you at the station after my morning class. About ten? Is that good for you?”

Jim smiled and nodded, but his phone rang before he could agree. It was Simon. Jim grunted at his Captain, hung up and turned to Blair.

“I gotta go, buddy. Murder number four happened a couple of hours ago. But Simon will be there with me if you want to get some sleep.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m coming with you. I’d never sleep anyway knowing you are on the street without me.”

Jim’s ice blue eyes shone with love as he quietly answered, “Okay, Chief.”

~~~~~~

Jim examined the body of a homeless man that was tucked into a corner of a doorway. The man had seeked refuge from the gusty wind and sleet that was punishing both the just and unjust. Jim shook his head at Blair who was hunched in his coat, gloved hand on Jim’s back to help him focus.

“It’s no use, Chief. The icy wind has taken all the other scents away.” Jim was wearing disposable gloves so as not to contaminate the scene. He picked up a green paper gift bag with a picture of Santa on it. Inside was a knit hat with earflaps, a tube of expensive sensitive teeth toothpaste, a colorful toothbrush and a Tamagotchi e-game with extra batteries.

Jim smelled each item but was having no luck. Blair danced back and forth on his feet. Trying to keep warm.

“This is impossible, Jim. The weather is too lousy.”

“I’m trying to get the scent of this Bernie the Elf, guy. Simon said this is one of his gift bags. The elf must have used gloves to pack these gifts. No fingerprints. But look at the care he took to give the victim what he really wanted for Christmas. This is a very personal collection. The bag itself was put here after the murder. It’s close to the victim but doesn’t have any blood splatter on it. The elf left it after he was dead. That does put him at the scene. Simon thinks he called in the 911 and hung up.”

Blair blew on his hands. “You… have you issued an APB on the elf?”

Jim put down the gift bag and stood up. “Yeah, but if he takes off his hat and mask, we have nothing, no good description. The street people are protecting his identity like he’s some superhero. I guess to them he is. We’ll need to go undercover to catch him in the act. Simon is thinking about it.”

“Well. That’s assuming the elf is your perp. Go over the body again, Jim, dialed down scent and dial up sight. Maybe there is some trace of the real murderer.”

Jim nodded and knelt beside the victim. He looked closely at the knife wounds and found nothing.

“Jim. Look at his hands. The right fist is clenched but the left is relaxed.”

Jim opened the fist and found tiny fibers in the grimy creases of the victim’s palms. “Grey fibers, Chief. Good catch. These could be from the murderer. Looks like a uniform fabric to me. Worn, Maybe a coat, frayed at the cuff and the fibers lost in the struggle.”

Jim called over to a forensics tech to hand him an evidence bag. He put the almost invisible fibers inside, sealed and labelled the bag and gave it back to the tech for processing.

Blair grew pale and still. He glanced at Simon who was talking to Dan Wolf the ME. Blair gasped and started to tremble as he was thrown into a flashback.

_It was a warm summer night. He woke to the sound of his buddy, Bernie Morse gasping in pain. A man stood over him with a dripping knife and wearing a uniform. Bernie was dying and he looked into the eyes of a killer. He’d seen that face before. He recognized the uniform. It belonged to the guard who nearly threw him out of the Greyhound terminal. He took his guitar case and smashed that ugly face. He remembered running, then pain, blood and darkness. A face came out of the darkness. The strong, kind face of Detective Banks. He was screaming at the big cop until the darkness came again._

“Chief? Chief! What’s wrong?”

Jim reached his partner in time to catch him as Blair’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell into Jim’s arms. Jim let him down gently on the cold, wet, sidewalk as he yelled for Dan.

“Dan! Sandburg’s passed out! Chief, wake up, buddy. You’re scaring me. Chief! Come on.”

Jim patted Blair’s cheeks as Dan and Simon ran to his side. Dan quickly examined him and took his pulse while Jim held him against his chest and off the wet ground.

“He’s a bit cold to the touch. No fever or congestion. I think he just fainted. It’s finals isn’t it? Has he been overdoing it? Sorry, stupid question. He’s coming around. Blair?”

Blair lashed out, and mumbled, “Leave me alone. You don’t care. You don’t care.”

Jim held him close and grabbed his flailing hands.

“Easy Chief, easy. You’re safe. Look at me, babe. Everyone here cares about you. Especially me.”

“Jim? Wha’s going on?”

Blair was still shaking, blinking up at Jim with tears in his eyes.

“Blair,” said Dan. “Do you know what happened? Do you have any pain?”

Blair seemed to realize he was on the sidewalk cocooned in Jim's arms.

“Oh, man. I must have passed out. No, no pain. I guess I should have eaten today. I’m okay now.”

Jim was checking his vitals along with Dan. The sour lemon scent of Blair’s half truths made him want to shake his partner and get the truth out of him. Whatever it was it was more than low blood sugar.

Dan paused a moment took Blair’s chin in his hand, looked into his eyes, briefly checked for swollen glands, then nodded.

“Best thing to do, Jim is get him out of this weather and into a warm bed. After he eats. If that doesn’t revive him, or he begins to run a fever, call me.”

“Go on Jim,” Simon concurred.”Take him home by way of Wonderburger. It won’t kill him to eat real cop food for once. Dan and I will finish up here.”

Jim helped Blair get to his feet and kept a firm hold on him. Blair was glad for the support.

“Thanks, Dan. Simon. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Blair said quietly, his voice was weak as his knees. He leaned into Jim and gave him a sheepish grin.

Jim wanted to confront Blair about what was going on with him, but he decided it could wait until the morning. Right now he had a Guide to feed and care for.

“Come on Chief. I’ll drive you home.”

~~~~~~

Jim turned the heat in his truck to high and aimed the vent at his partner. He watched as Blair scarfed down a double cheese deluxe Wonderburger, Wonder fries with a hot cocoa chaser. Blair usually stuck to his guns and ate healthy, vegetarian meals. Jim found he enjoyed Blair’s cooking, as long as he could have a burger now and then. But Jim noticed that when Blair was stressed, he could put the food away like it was his last meal, veggies be damned.

“Slow down, Chief. We want your blood sugar to normalize not explode out the top of your curly head.”

Blair took a sip of cocoa that had just reached the right temperature.

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t eaten today. Coffee and that one beer with you was all I had. I’m  
sorry I scared you guys.”

“When you were down, buddy. You were yelling that no one cared about you.”

Blair looked up at the rain patterns on the windshield.

“Was I? Well, I know that’s not true. I know you care about my well-being. You know you hate it when I get hurt on the job. Simon does too.”

“But it wasn’t always like that, was it Chief?”

“Jim. Naomi did what she thought was best. And I love her for that. But I got used to being on my own. I learned to take care of myself. I still do.”

“Chief, every kid deserves to be taken care of. To feel love and security and a sense of home.”

“Oh, yeah, man. Like you had an idyllic childhood. Let’s not compare dysfunctional families. We’re both grown men. We can deal with what we were dealt.”

“Chief? What if I wanted to care for you, give you a home.”

“Jim? What are you saying? Is this a Sentinel thing? I mean, I understand how a Sentinel would have a genetic imperative to protect the Guide to keep him in your territory. A sort of nesting instinct.”

“Shit, Sandburg. Turn off the scientist crap for a minute. Don’t you think I could care about you… for yourself?”

“Yeah, right. Like you’d ever be my friend if it wasn’t for the Sentinel thing. Can you see yourself hanging out with me, paying attention to my dreams if I was some academic you met by chance? What did you call me when we met? A neo-hippie, witch doctor, punk? I know I’m hard to live with. People get tired of my shit and have to leave or more likely throw me out into the street. I appreciate you putting up with me, Jim. I really do. I think our friendship is the longest relationship I ever had. Thanks, man.”

Blair gathered up his trash and returned it to the bag the food came in.

“Please, can we go home now. I’m so tired.”

Jim stared at his partner in disbelief. Blair was clueless when it came to how beautiful, how lovable, how special, he really was. Jim wanted to go back in time and throttle everyone who ever made Blair feel insignificant, starting with Naomi. He shook his head. It was too late. He had fallen for his neo-hippie, witch doctor punk in a big way. He admitted, at least to himself, that he was in love.

“Sure, Chief. Let’s get you home.”

Blair sighed in relief and looked out his window. The sky was clearing and the wind had died down. An unnerving silence had settled over Cascade and the cabin of the old truck. Blair hated keeping things from Jim, but he was in too deep. He knew who the murderer was, but he had no proof and had to stop him from striking again. He owed it to Bernie. If Jim knew what Blair was doing, it would be his duty as a cop to arrest him as a murder suspect. And if he couldn’t bring himself to arrest Blair, he could be arrested himself and ruin his career. He couldn’t do that to the man he secretly loved. Blair hoped he wouldn’t lose Jim’s friendship in the process. He needed to handle this on his own. Like always.

~~~~~~~~

Jim was back in Simon’s office, this time going over Dan’s autopsy report on the latest victim. Due to the call out the night before, they were both enjoying the second cup of coffee of the morning with a promise of plenty more to come. Simon sat back in his chair and sipped from his favorite mug. Jim closed the report.

“Damnit, Simon. I was hoping for more fibers. Anything to break this case wide open.”

“I know. At least forensics agrees with you. The fibers are a cotton polyester blend often found in work uniforms. It’s something. Hey, how was the kid this morning?”

“Tired. Pale. Depressed. Something is wrong with him. But he’s not telling me what. He wanted to come in this afternoon but I told him to go home and get some rest. At least he ate the big breakfast I made for him.”

“Jim, I was thinking of sending someone undercover as a street person. I thought of you and Sandburg, but I really don’t want to put him in that kind of danger, especially if he’s not feeling his best.”

“Who’d you have in mind?”

“Myself. With you as my backup.”

“Captain? You? I can understand using me as eyes and ears. I wouldn’t let the bastard within ten feet of you. But Captain, you are the Captain. Do what Captains do. Delegate.”

“I mentioned to you that this case has me tied up in knots. I need to figure out what it is that’s bugging me. I want this sick fuck. Rank has its privilege.”

Jim nodded. “Okay, Simon. Tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m going to spend the night few nights outside the bus station. It’s central to all the murders.The terminal closes around midnight so we’ll set up then. You in a work van, me freezing my ass off in a cardboard box. Brown and Rafe will be on patrol and Joel will take over the office for me. Oh, and don’t tell the kid until it’s over. I don’t want him to lose any sleep worrying about us.”

~~~~~~

Blair had donned his elf hat and mask and given out all the gift bags he had hidden in his trunk. It was after eleven and time to head over to the Greyhound Terminal. Earlier, he had flirted with a customer service representative and introduced himself as a Greyhound Mystery Customer sent by management to check the workers. After Blair promised her a good report, she had told him all about Melvin Everest, the old relic from a bygone era, who professed to be a loyal company man to anyone who would listen. Melvin had no family to speak of. In his career, he had been a security guard for several large terminals and was recently sent back to Cascade, where he had started, to wait for his retirement. Thirty years of mediocre service was going to earn him a small pension and a lifetime free bus pass. Only for Melvin a lifetime wasn’t as long as it used to be.

Blair walked into the terminal and took a seat in the waiting area. He spotted Melvin right away. Blair knew his pattern now. He would lock down the terminal before he’d make his kill. Blair fingered the small tape recorder in his pocket, then pulled out his phone to check the battery. If all went well, he’d have a confession on tape and then call Jim for backup, before Melvin could do any more harm.

The terminal closed at twelve-thirty after the late bus had given up all its passengers. At twelve fifteen, the bus station was empty and Blair put on his hat and mask. He switched on his tape recorder. Crossing his arms across his chest and stretching his legs out into the aisle, he stared Melvin down.

Melvin as predicted approached Blair intent on asking him to leave.

“Hey, Melvin old pal. I have a question for you. Why?”

Mevin frowned. “I’m sorry, Sir, but you’ll have to leave. We are closing.”

“Why did you do it, Mel?”

Melvin squinted his eyes as if he had a headache. Up close, Blair could see he was starting to go bald and his once pristine grey uniform was old and frayed. Greyhound guards didn’t carry firearms. They were only there to call the police if needed. Blair was pretty sure he could take the pudgy man down if it came to it.

“You’re that masked elf who gives presents to the degenerates around here. You’re wanted for murder, I can turn you in. Maybe get a reward.”

Blair pulled in his legs and leaned forward.

“You don’t seem scared. I don’t see you running to call the cops. Why is that, Mel? And why did you kill all those innocent men?”

“Innocent! They were criminals, vagrants. Vagrancy is against the law, you bleeding heart liberal.”

“Oh, so you killed homeless men, some who were veterans down on their luck, because they were breaking the law?”

“No! Because it was my job! I killed them because my superiors said I had to keep the area free of vagrants or I would lose my job! I love my job. I’d do anything to keep it.”

“Even murder, Melvin?”

“They aren’t even people! They are animals left by their own kind to die. No one cares if they live. If they cared, they would take them in, right? Give them a home. No one loves them. They are worthless and they weren’t going to cost me my livelihood and my free bus pass! I want to see the Grand Canyon when I retire!”

Blair stood, tears in his eyes, for the unfortunate souls that lived on the outskirts of society. He had heard enough crazyass logic. He reached for his phone to call Jim. 

Melvin pulled a large knife out of his boot and plunged it into Blair’s abdomen. Blair inhaled instinctively just before the pain hit. Melvin caught his shoulders and whispered in his ear.

“They are always so quiet when they die.” 

Melvin struck again, and Blair fell to the floor.

Melvin laughed as he watched a pool of blood forming under his victim. He rarely got the satisfaction of seeing the gruesome result of his attacks. It was usually too dark to see it. But then he heard voices outside. He had forgotten to lock the doors. He turned to see two large men entered the terminal, guns in hand.

“Police! Freeze!” said a black man in rumbled clothes while the other man, a big, muscular military-type who looked more like a cop, screamed, “Chief! Noooooo!” at the sight. 

Melvin threw down his knife and fell on his knees, Blair’s blood soaking his grey uniform pants.  
Simon pushed Melvin all the way to the floor roughly and cuffed him. He read him his rights with a trembling voice.

In a calm, disconnected tone, Melvin told Simon, “It’s his fault I didn’t lock the door on time. Make sure that goes in your report. I don’t want to get written up by my superiors.”

Jim cradled Blair in his arms, pressing his jacket into Blair’s wounds, trying to stop the blood flow. The sirens from the backup and ambulance Simon had called were getting closer.

“Chief? Blair? Oh, please don’t do this.”

Blair’s eyes opened.

“Jim. Jim I recorded… his confession. He killed Bernie… and the others. I was the elf… in memory of Bernie… my friend. Sorry… I couldn’t tell you… oooh… it hurts so… much. ”

“Okay, Chief. Okay. Don’t talk, babe. Ambulance is almost here.”

Simon took over keeping pressure on Blair’s wounds, adding one of his shirts to the already bloody coat.

Blair cried out in pain and Jim winced as the sound tore through him. Blair waved a hand weakly and Jim took it in his. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Jim?”

“I love you, Chief. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

Blair tried to smile but he coughed instead and blood trickled from his mouth. He moaned and closed his eyes.

“Nonononono! You have to stay with me, Blair. Open… open those eyes… your beautiful eyes.”

Tears were streaming down Jim’s face as he dropped kiss after kiss on Blair’s head.

Simon swallowed hard and said gently, “Let him go, Jim. The medics are here.” 

~~~~~~

Jim paced the waiting room outside of surgery at Cascade General. Covered with Blair’s blood, he looked horrific, but had refused to go home to change. He was silently monitoring Blair’s heartbeat, trying to focus to determine his blood pressure. Blair had lost so much blood, his BP had dropped dangerously low and he was sent into convulsions as he rode in the ambulance. Jim had never been so scared in his life. Even watching his men die in Peru didn’t compare with watching Blair fade away. His men were soldiers who knew the risk of service. Blair was an innocent who had stolen his heart. How can you survive without a heart? 

Simon sat quietly in a corner, head in his hands and deep in thought. He was still dressed in the ragged, now bloody clothes he had picked up at a thrift store’s discard pile. Brown and Rafe had taken over the scene at the bus terminal, allowing Jim and Simon to accompany Blair. Joel was currently collecting clean clothes, decent coffee and sandwiches for his anxious friends.

Jim stopped his pacing momentarily when he smelled the salty scent of tears coming from Simon. Jim walked over to him and crouched down, gently touching his arm.

“Simon?”

Simon sat back and took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his dirty sleeve.

“I know who Bernie is, Jim. I finally remember what has been bugging me.”

“I wondered who he was. How did you know him?”

“Jim, I met Blair Sandburg shortly after I became a homicide detective. It was 1984.. He was a witness to a murder of a homeless veteran. Bernie Morse. Sandburg was only fifteen and on the streets. It was the summer before he started at Rainier. Some mix up between Naomi and Doctor Stoddard. He was a recalcitrant little shit who called himself Ric Ocasec.”

Jim smiled despite his aching heart.

“The lead singer of _The Cars?_ You fell for that?”

“Oh, yeah. Kid had my number. He refused to speak to me. He said I didn’t care about him or Bernie. That I would forget them and never find them justice. He was right. My Captain pulled me off the case and I never followed up. I let my ambitions cloud my sense of morality. I didn’t even remember Blair Sandburg’s name when you introduced us. What he must think of me.”

“Damn, Simon. So Melvin Everest killed Blair’s friend Bernie and he witnessed it?”

“Yeah. The poor kid was so alone. I actually saw him in a diner before he hit the streets. I should have made an effort to track him down that night. He must have headed for the bus terminal and met Bernie.”

“I think we owe this Bernie, Simon. No wonder Blair decided to be a Christmas elf in his name. But why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he tell me? Did he think I wouldn’t want to help him? Hell, anyone at the station who knows Blair would have given a donation or helped hand out gifts to honor his friend. Why doesn’t he know that?”

“Kid grows up like that, doesn’t know what to do when true friendship and love comes his way. It’s foreign territory, something to run from, not towards. It hurts too much when it’s taken away.”

“Simon, I swear to you if, no… when... Blair comes through this, I’m going to give him the home he always wanted and love him all I can for as long as I live.”

Simon patted Jim’s shoulder and nodded. “It won’t be easy, but well worth it I think. I want to help in any way I can, Jim. I owe the kid I walked away from all those years ago.”

~~~~~~

Jim, an immovable object, sat next to the bed holding his irresistible force’s hand. Blair had been stepped down from ICU and placed in a private room without waking. He was no longer in critical condition. It was December twentieth, five shopping days until Christmas. But Jim had only one wish on his list, for Blair to open his eyes and recognize him.

Jim looked up seconds before Simon and Dan entered the room.

“Jim? Did you get any sleep? You look terrible,” said Simon.

“Hello, Jim,” said Dan. “Any change?”

“Hi, guys.” Jim took a moment to stand and work out the kinks in his back. He shook Dan’s hand.

“No. No change. But his vital signs are good. No infection.”

Dan went to the bed and placed a hand on Blair’s brow, almost as if giving a blessing. He smoothed Blair’s hair and turned to Jim.

“He is doing well, Jim. I consulted with his doctor. I wanted him to know about his fainting spell. The stabbing wounds are healing nicely. The first entered his abdomen and punctured his stomach lining. He’ll have to watch what he eats for a while, similar to having an ulcer. The second glanced against a rib that stopped it from reaching any vital organ. When he wakes up he’ll need to make sure he takes deep breaths to prevent pneumonia. He’s really very lucky. I spoke to the doctor about his delay in waking up. We agree that he’s in a deep sleep, not a coma. He was already suffering from exhaustion before he was injured. His body will awaken when it has finally has had enough rest. This is a healing sleep, Jim. He will be all the better for it when he does wake up.”

“Thanks, Dan. I appreciate the explanation. I was so happy that he survived the operation, I hardly paid attention to what the surgeon told me.”

Simon spoke up. “Speaking of exhaustion, you are about to drop, Jim. Let me stay with Blair. Like Dan said, he’s just sleeping. Take a break.”

“Yes, Jim. Come have dinner with me at a nice restaurant not the hospital cafeteria. We can talk about how to care for Blair when he gets home. Home for the holidays. That will cheer you up. Simon and I would be happy to get a tree and decorate the loft for his homecoming.”

Jim glanced at Blair who was still out of it. The thought of Blair under a Christmas tree, his eyes as bright as the twinkling lights did make him smile. He checked Blair’s vitals himself before answering Dan.

“Okay, That does sound good. But don’t think I don’t know you planned this all out. I appreciate it. Simon…”

“I know. Call you if he so much as twitches.”

~~~~~~

Simon settled in as best he could. He had brought along some paperwork, but soon threw it aside. He found he’d rather watch Blair sleep and let his mind wander. He was thinking about what to make for his Christmas Eve dinner with his son Darryl, when he noticed two sleepy blue eyes blinking up at him.

“Blair! Oh, wonderful. Jim leaves for the first time in three days and you pick now to wake up. Can you hear me, kid?”

“Simon? That you? Lost my glasses again. Fuzzy.”

Blair’s voice was rough and weak. He moved his arm and winced.

“Easy now, don’t move. Let me get you a drink.”

“Where’s... Jim? He’s gone? Are… are you gonna arrest me, Simon?”

Simon nearly dropped the water pitcher.

“Arrest you? Sandburg, how do you come up with this crazy ass stuff? No, son. I’m not going to arrest you, just give you water and keep you from sneaking off until Jim gets back.”

Blair sipped at the straw Simon held in his mouth. He finished and licked his dry lips.

“Blair. I remember you and Bernie now. I never followed up on the case after I was satisfied you were in good hands with Stoddard. I’m so sorry I let you down.”

Simon took Blair’s hand in his.

“Simon. I knew who the killer was. It was trapped in my mind. I had a flashback when I fainted. I knew then. I know what a good detective you are. If I had talked to you when Bernie died, you would have helped me bring back that night instead of repressing it. Simon, Melvin worked in other cities. He may have killed dozens of people. That is on my head.”

“Oh, God, no, son. You were just a child. I was the adult. Blair, I let it slide. Let you slide. Blair, please don’t blame yourself.”

Both men had tears in their eyes and regret in their souls.

“Simon. I deserve to be arrested… I ignored the APB… I…”

“Enough! You did nothing wrong. Melvin Everest murdered those men. Not you. Not me. We have to learn as a police officers that we are human and make mistakes. When people like us make mistakes, it could cost lives. But how many lives did you save, son, putting your own on the line?”

Blair was quiet for a long moment, then he smiled, squeezing Simon’s hand.

“You included me in your closed society. You called me a cop.”

Simon squeezed back gently, then let go, leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I did not. You must be delirious.”

“What the hell, Simon?” Jim busted through the door trying to hide a smile, but failing miserably.

“I told you to call me if he twitched.”

Simon knew Jim had heard their earlier conversation. He played along.

“He didn’t twitch. He woke up and spun me right into the Sandburg zone. He’s all yours.”

Simon stood up and leaned over Blair, mindful of his IV and bandages. To everyone's surprise, including his own, he gave Blair a fatherly kiss on the forehead.

“I love you, Ric. I’m sorry it took me over ten years to realize it.”

Blair’s lips trembled in a smile and he nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Talking to Simon had wiped him out.

As Simon left, he gave Jim a brief pat on the back in encouragement. Jim sat in the uncomfortable chair that had been home for three days and took Blair’s hand.

“Chief? You there?”

Blair turned his head to see Jim’s face and took a deep breath. Suddenly his injuries decided to make themselves known. Blair groaned miserably and reached for his stomach.

“Jim. Feels like a fire in there. I need… I need… ahhhhh.”

Jim pressed the nurse’s call button and a flurry of activity began. Blair’s vitals were taken, he was asked about his pain levels and if he understood his injuries and restrictions. The appropriate drugs were placed in his IV pump. A few minutes later, a pain free Blair opened his eyes and searched out Jim again.

“Hey, Chief. Just relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks, Jim. Did you hear what Simon told me?”

“Most of it. He’s right. You saved lives by confronting Everest. I just wish you had trusted your partner to have your back.”

“Jim! I trust you. I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me. Maybe even go to jail. No way I would let that happen.”

“But it’s okay for you to go after a killer on your own? Chief we need to reexamine your definition of partner.”

Blair seemed to take a moment to contemplate Jim’s answer. Then shrugged and moved on.

“Simon said he loved me.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“Yeah… you love me too. I’m a lucky S.O.B.”

Jim pulled his chair closer to Blair’s bed so he could stroke his hair.

“Try to listen to me, baby, and understand. I love you. I want to make a home for you.”

“Jim? You mean like happily ever after?”

“Baby, I mean like tear your clothes off and fuck you speechless forever and ever. Amen.”

“Jim? Are you talking about sex? With me?”

“No, baby. I’m talking about making love to the man who has stolen my heart.”

“Jim, I love you too. I want that too.”

“Chief? Those drugs kick in? You feeling any pain?”

“No pain, Jim.”

“Okay then.”

Jim leaned over the bed and kissed Blair like he should be kissed. Flavors and scents exploded on his senses and he heard Blair moan, but not from pain. The kiss became a trip to another realm where only Blair Sandburg existed for Jim Ellison. Jim ended the kiss and placed his forehead on Blair’s, gently caressing Blair’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“That kind of love, Chief. You understand me?”

“Wow, man. Transcendental. Let’s do that again.”

~~~~~~

On Christmas Eve Blair glanced around his hospital room. It was full of green and red, silver and gold. Joel had brought him a small artificial tree, Rafe and Brown decorated it with toy handcuffs, police badges, and matchbox police, fire and rescue vehicles. The inappropriate and macho tree had several wrapped presents underneath, including one from his mom who was currently in New Zealand, and one from Megan who was visiting her parents down under. Dr. Stoddard and his wife had stopped by and brought a beautiful poinsettia that Jim had taken charge of, at Blair’s request, and was desperately trying not to kill.

Blair looked up from his pile of Christmas cards when he heard carolers in the hall heading his way. He appreciated the good cheer generated by the hospital staff. But he wanted to go home. The card in his hand was from a student, and had a traditional winter scene. A man was dragging a Christmas tree from a nearby snowy woods and his house was welcoming him home with candles at every window and smoke from a hearth fire curling from the chimney. Blair held the card to his chest, thinking of all the people who didn’t have a home for the holidays. He wondered how his homeless buddies were doing without him. 

Blair sighed. He was still too sore to do anything for them this Christmas. He wondered where Jim was. Jim usually came in at noon after stopping by the station. He hoped Jim hadn’t run out to buy him a Christmas present. He couldn’t reciprocate stuck in a hospital bed. Jim had already given him the most precious gift of all. His love. Anything else was overkill.

“Hey, Chief. Merry Christmas Eve, buddy!”

Jim came in pushing a wheelchair, the hallway carolers right behind him serenading them with, _Oh, Christmas Tree._ Blair smiled and waved as they moved on. Jim closed the door, pushed the chair to the side and headed for the bed. He leaned in and kissed Blair as he ran his fingers through his hair. Something he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Jim. I missed you. What’s with the wheelchair?”

“Well, it’s part of your Christmas present. Dan and I spoke to your doctor. He said it was too soon for you to go home since you can’t really stand up yet. You stamina is shot to hell, and you are a definite fall risk since your blood loss left you weak as a kitten. Plus you still have a week of IV antibiotics to take for that minor infection you picked up, just to scare the crap out of me.” 

“I’m sorry, Jim. This really sucks. Won’t be much of a Christmas for you. You can volunteer to work. You don’t have to sit with me. I’m an adult. I can cope. If you were thinking of wheeling me down to Christmas bingo or something. I’d rather just stay here with you.”

Blair reached out his hand and Jim took it and held it to his chest.

“Christmas bingo? Not for my little guppy. I’m taking you home.”

“What? Jim. you just said…”

I meant that Dan and I talked to your doctor and convinced him that a former Army Ranger and an ME could certainly deal with one little Anthropologist. Dan agreed to stop by after work and give you your antibiotics, change your dressings and be on house call duty. I agreed to take some time off and make sure you eat right and do some PT to build up your strength...”

“And scan me with your senses, like I’ve never been scanned before. Jim! Man! What a Christmas gift. Thank you. Thank you. Can we go now?”

Jim laughed at Blair’s enthusiasm. “Sure, babe. Let’s get you bundled up.”

~~~~~~

It took Jim and two orderlies to get Blair, his wheelchair and his Christmas gifts settled in the truck. Stoddard’s poinsettia was stuck between Blair and Jim, much to Jim’s annoyance. He wanted to have Blair as close as possible and hold his hand.

Blair was in great spirits, telling some tale of a tribe who had a holiday where they celebrated the shortest day of the year by jumping off cliffs blindfolded. The symbolism escaped Jim.

“Hey, man you missed the turnoff. Where are we going?”.

“Patience, Chief. It’s Christmas Eve. Expect the unexpected.”

After a few more minutes of ignoring Blair’s questions, Jim pulled into the parking lot by the men’s shelter run by Reverend Stiles. Jim parked and hurried out of the truck to grab the wheelchair. He unfolded it on the passenger’s side and opened Blair’s door. Jim reached in and unbuckled Blair’s seat belt. Blair wound his arms around Jim’s strong neck. They both stopped a moment as Jim breathed deep.

“Blair. You smell so good. I love you so damn much, baby. I almost lost you.”

Jim nuzzled into Blair’s neck as Blair’s hands cupped Jim’s head and pulled him even closer against him.

“It’s okay, Big Guy. I’m gonna be okay. You won’t let me be otherwise. Come on, I want to see what you cooked up.”

Jim nodded and pulled away. He kissed Blair lightly on the cheek and lifted him in his arms. Jim frowned when he noticed how much weight Blair had lost. He gently seated him in his chair and pushed him through the doors of the brightly lit shelter. 

A cheer and a chorus of Merry Christmas greeted Jim and his precious cargo as they entered. The place was packed. The Reverend was behind the serving line with quite a few volunteers handing out festive cakes, cookies and coffee. Blair recognized many faces from his gift giving. Then he saw Simon and a group of cops all wearing green elf hats.

“Simon? What’s going on? What’s with the hats”

“Merry Christmas, Sandburg.” Simon smiled and handed Blair a hat from a large box. It was the same one he was wearing and had the name, Bernie, embroidered on the furry rim.

“This was all Simon’s doing, Blair,” said Jim.

“Well, I had a lot of helpers who got the ball rolling.”

Darryl Banks, also wearing a Bernie hat, ran up to Blair and gave him a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Blair. Isn’t this great?”

“Darryl. Great to see you, man. What is going on?”

Darryl smiled up at his father.

“Go on. Tell him, son.”

“This is the Bernie Morse Annual Christmas Eve Dinner. Dad got all the cops together to bring in all the homeless guys from the street for a meal and a bed. The goal is for their to be no one sleeping on the streets of Cascade on Christmas morning.”

Jim leaned over so Blair could hear him over the happy sounds of people enjoying their meal.

“Chief, this isn’t the only shelter that is packed tonight. Rafe and Brown are over at Saint John’s helping out there. And Rhonda and Serena are at the women's shelter. All over the city, off duty cops in Bernie the Elf hats are persuading people to come inside at least for the night.”

“We got gift bags too, Blair. Dad talked to the principal of my school and got him to start a gift drive for the homeless. We got students to ask their parents for one less gift so the money could be put in a fund to buy warm clothes, toiletries, candy, games and puzzles. Like the bags you made up, Blair.”

Simon patted his son on the shoulders.

“The kids really got into the spirit, Sandburg. One kid gave up a new game system he had been screaming for and gave the money to the drive. His parents were so proud of him.”

Blair glanced around, still a bit bewildered. Simon bent down and said, “I remember Bernie, Blair. And now everyone else will remember him too.”

Simon gently hugged Blair who whispered his heartfelt thanks. Simon let him go and stood to wipe his glasses that had suddenly gone misty. Blair smiled up at his friends.

Simon cleared his throat and nodded at Darryl who ran off and came back with Blair’s old guitar case.

“Blair, please? Play something for us? We have an amp right over here.”

Darryl busied himself hooking up the guitar and plugging in the amp in a corner of the crowded dining room.

Jim knelt before his partner.

“You okay, Chief? If it’s too much we’ll take a raincheck.”

“No. I’m okay, Jim. Just a little overwhelmed. Simon went above and beyond, Imagine no one in Cascade is homeless tonight. Bernie would have loved that. I’ll play one song and then we can go.”

Darryl grabbed the wheelchair, making Blair laugh at his excitement. He handed Blair his guitar like it was a sacred relic. Which it was. Blair tuned the strings and had Darryl adjust the amp.

Blair played the first chords and several people clapped, recognizing the song.

Who's gonna pick you up  
When you fall  
Who's gonna hang it up  
When you call  
Who's gonna pay attention  
To your dreams  
Yeah, who's gonna plug their ears  
When you scream

You can't go on thinking  
Nothing's wrong, oh oh  
Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?

~~~~~~~

On the drive home, the poinsettia was relegated to the truck bed to keep Blair’s guitar company. Blair had faded rather spectacularly after being hugged by a dozen people After Jim gave him a pain pill and got him in the truck, he fell asleep as soon as Jim put the truck in gear. Blair was now drooling on Jim’s shoulder and gripping his jacket with his fists. Jim couldn’t remember a better Christmas Eve and he still had some more surprises for his Guide.

Blair was a little more alert on his way up to the loft on the elevator. He perked right up when Jim pushed him to their door. A beautiful smile brightened his face when Jim wheeled him into the loft.

Simon, Darryl, and about a dozen friends and co-workers had transformed the loft into a Christmas fantasy. A real tree, about seven foot high stood near the stairs. It was decorated tastefully this time, in a woodsy theme with pine cone owls, wooden squirrels, tiny nests with speckled eggs and long, spiraling garland made from cranberries. The lights looked like icicles hanging from the branches. Under the tree was a pile of wrapped gifts. Near the fireplace were two stockings hung with care and already stuffed to the brim. White fairy lights were hung everywhere and candles were ready on every flat surface to add that special holiday glow.

“Oh, Jim. Look at this place. It’s like we’re living in a Hallmark card! And you got a new couch and a recliner! This is too much, man.”

“The recliner is a rental. I picked it up for you. One of those electric lift chairs to help you get up and down without pulling your stitches. I can send it back when you’re recovered, but Simon already called dibs on it for the next Jags game night. So it might be a keeper.”

Blair wheeled over to the couch and felt the blue denim fabric.

“Nice.”

“Ummm. It’s a sofa bed, Chief. I got one with an upgraded mattress so we could… share. Until you can climb the stairs.”

Blair’s eyes lit up with mischief.

“Did you get it at Sofa King, Jim? It looks so-fuc-king comfortable.”

“Chief? How do you sleep at night after making such a terrible joke.”

Blair chuckled, “Well, lately I’ve been taking two little blue pills…”

Jim sat on the couch and pulled Blair’s chair towards him. Blair reached out for him and Jim melted into his arms with a happy sigh. Jim let Blair’s honey sweet scent wrap around his senses. Jim was content just to hold him, but knew Blair needed to get some rest.

“Honey?”

Blair giggled then said in his deepest voice, “Yes, darling?”

“Oh. I can see a relationship with you is gonna keep me up on my toes.”

“Jim. I intend to keep at least one part of you up as often as I can!”

“Don’t be a tease. I have to wait until you can join me.”

Blair deflated a little. “Yeah. But it will be worth the wait. I guarantee it, babe. I am pretty sore and tired.”

“You’ve overdone it already. Dan will kill me when he stops by tomorrow. Honey, you want some tea or juice while I pull out the bed?”

“I’d like some tea, that would be great, man.”

“Okay. I’ll wheel you to the kitchen and you can drink it while I get things ready.”

Jim microwaved a cup of water and added some honey and a Sleepytime chamomile tea bag. Jim set it in front of Blair with a spoon and busied himself with the living room. He pulled out the sofabed and gathered his bedding and Blair’s from their separate rooms. Jim smiled at the thought of never sleeping singly again. He lit the candles and turned out the lights. Blair wanted to sleep in the comfy sweats he was wearing so Jim stripped down to his silk boxers. A quick bathroom run and they were both ready. Jim helped ease Blair under the covers and carefully got in beside him. 

Blair cautiously rolled onto his back and stretched out slowly. 

“Ummmm. It feels so good to lie down. I can’t believe how wiped I get just being pushed around.”

Jim began to massage Blair’s neck and shoulders, wanting to ease his discomfort.

“You can take another pain pill, honey. The Doc said you could double the dose the first night home.”

“No, man. The tea worked fine. I’m relaxed. I want to watch the tree in the candlelight. It’s so damn perfect.”

“It’s after midnight, Blair. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jim. It’s already the best Christmas I ever had. I… I thought this thing we have now was going to be awkward. But it feels so natural, lying beside you and loving you so much it hurts.”

“No hurting allowed in our bed. Only love. I have a gift for you, I want to give you now.”

“Jim! No! I don’t need another thing.”

Jim placed a simple folder in his hands, Blair opened it up and tried to read it without his glasses. He huffed in frustration.

“Jim, read it to me!”

“It’s the lease to the loft, Blair. I own this space and pay maintenance fees every month. You’ve been helping me pay those fees for years now. It’s why I kept your rent low. I really didn’t need it. But I knew how independent you are.”

“Why are you showing me this, Jim. Are you thinking of selling?”

“No, honey. If you weren’t blind as a bat, you could see your name is on the title. I’m giving you the gift of a home. You own it and I’m going to pay the maintenance fees. You will never be homeless again, Blair. You now have the right to decorate as you choose and make all the house rules. I just hope you decide to keep me around… forever.”

Blair’s eyes grew wide and he opened and closed his mouth several times.

“You okay, honey?”

“Jim. Jim, this is the most generous… loving… gift I have ever… Jim...”

Blair rolled over and buried his head in Jim’s chest as strong arms wrapped around him holding him as he cried for the lonely, recalcitrant boy who had finally gotten his dearest wish.

“Merry Christmas, Chief,” Jim whispered, “Welcome home.”


End file.
